


You Stole My Heart, Are You Satisfied?

by smallxir



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Confessions, Detective Saihara Shuichi, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Phantom Thief AU, Phantom Thief Kokichi Oma, it's law for every oumasai writer to do at least 1 detective/phantom thief fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallxir/pseuds/smallxir
Summary: Detective Shuichi Saihara decides to meet up with infamous Phantom Thief DICE to reveal his identity. But as these sorts of stories go, nothing ever happens the way you expect it, especially between an infamous criminal and a member of the law.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 235





	You Stole My Heart, Are You Satisfied?

On a frosty winter evening, a lone figure stood atop the roof of an apartment building, waiting silently. A bitter breeze blew around him, cutting icy-cold blades through his black trench coat and plain dress shirt, biting into his skin. The figure shuddered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. Clouds of his own breath were barely visible, only illuminated by the dull street lamps below.

“I see you’ve arrived, Detective Saihara,” A loud voice suddenly echoed out. The detective turned around, catching a glimpse of a figure dressed in all white striding towards him. “Looks like you actually received my little letter! You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find your address, Nishishi! ”

Saihara had received a strange invitation taped to his balcony window a few nights ago; detailing how the most infamous phantom thief in Japan, DICE wanted to meet the detective personally and see if the latter had figured out who DICE was. Saihara at first was unsure if this was someone pulling a prank on him, but when compared with other samples of the thief’s handwriting, it turned out to be a match. So pulling together all his courage, he agreed to meet DICE, but secretly had another reason for wanting to meet him.

Once the figure got closer, Saihara turned to see that it was indeed DICE headed towards him, donned in a white suit and checkered tie, plus white gloves and a distinguishable black cape trailing behind him with his signature gaudy white top hat atop his head. Purple hair stuck out from under his hat, tousled slightly from the wind. A clown mask obscured DICE’s face, but Saihara knew that the thief was grinning at him, clearly amused.

“I see that you actually showed up as promised, DICE. Or should I say, Ouma Kokichi?”

DICE halted about five feet away from the detective, staring at Saihara for a moment.

“Oh? Who’s this ‘Ouma Kokichi’, that you’re talking about?” DICE asked innocently, giving away no traces of uncertainty.

Fine. If he was going to play like that- “Ouma Kokichi. You were born on June 21st, went to Imperial Capital’s Imperial Highschool, graduated at eighteen years old,” DICE made no comment. “After studying at The University of Tokyo for a few years, you went missing around the same time that DICE, both the organisation and yourself showed up and began a series of heists and robberies all over Japan.”

DICE was silent, listening to Saihara’s little spiel carefully. “Wow, you sure are a class A creep, finding all that information about some random! But that seems like too much of a coincidence, if I’m gonna be honest here. And I’m usually a huuuuuge liar! Nishishi!”

“You’re lying about it being a coincidence.”

“Hmmm? Hmmmmmm~? Are you sure about that?”

“Because of-” Saihara reached into his coat and pulled two copies of different pictures; showing them off to DICE. “-these photos.”

One was of a young boy at a highschool graduation; bright, mischievous violet eyes stared right into the camera, a polite smile on his face. Wild, plum-coloured hair stuck out from the picture, contrasting the boy’s almost sickly looking complexion. The second one showed DICE himself running through a large crowd, with a comically large sack of jewels slung over his left shoulder. Looking closer at the picture, DICE’s clown mask had lifted off partially, revealing purple hair and violet eyes; eerily similar to the highschool boy from the first picture. DICE leaned in, observing the photos attentively, cocking his head and humming as if he was deep in thought.

“Heh, I’m impressed by your efforts, Mister Detective! Shouldn’t expect any less from Tokyo’s best!” DICE suddenly snatched the photos from Saihara. Without uttering another word, DICE tore them up and tossed it away, pieces scattering and drifting away delicately in the wind; much like particles of snow.

Much to DICE’s surprise, Saihara wasn’t visibly upset or angry. In fact, he looked like he’d actually expected it to happen. Saihara stood around, hands shoved into his coat pockets and silently watching his evidence flutter around the streets of Tokyo with no discernable expression.

“I’m honestly disappointed in you, Saihara-chan! You managed to discover my true identity, but you haven’t tried to make an arrest!” Shuichi was mildly surprised that DICE- no, Ouma, had given his true identity up without protest. The thief folded his arms across his chest and let out a petulant _hmpf_. “That’s super boring!”

“Why do you say so? Do you want to be caught?” Saihara cocked his head to one side, regarding the thief with a neutral expression.

Ouma snorted, folding his hands behind his head. “Does any thief want to be? Maybe some, but I wanna be able to steal for the rest of my life!”

“That’s a lie.” Saihara uttered with such confidence that Ouma flinched, clearly surprised.

“What makes you say that, Mister Detective?” Amusement laced the thief’s tone. “That’s an awfully bold claim to make.”

“It might be, but it’s the truth isn’t it? You knew I was going to catch onto you sooner or later, didn’t you?”

Ouma hummed in response. Another icy breeze swiped past, and the detective shivered slightly. Walking steadily towards the thief, Saihara turned up the collar of his trenchcoat, staring him down. “Perhaps-” Shuichi began, and Ouma tilted his head, eyes in the clown mask staring vacantly back at Saihara. “-You wanted to be caught by me.”

“Caught? By you?” Ouma scoffed, turning his back to Saihara. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! For a detective, you sure are dumb!”

Saihara placed a hand on Ouma’s shoulder, grip firm, but not painful. “Ouma-kun. Do you like me?” he asked quietly.

Ouma made no reply.

“I think- there’s a reason why you keep hanging around Tokyo. Most thieves would’ve gone elsewhere to get the police off their tracks, but for some reason you stayed. Why?”

“I believe you just answered your own question, detective.”

“...So you do like me.”

A brief silence, followed by a chuckle from Ouma caught the curiosity of Saihara.

“Shuichi.” Saihara was caught off guard by Ouma’s usage of his first name, freezing up. “Oh, my stupid, beloved detective, how could you say such things?” Spinning around to face Saihara, he grabbed the detective’s arm with a gloved hand, gripping it with such a force that it was painful.

“Ow! Ou-Ouma!? How did you-”

In one quick motion, Ouma pulled off his clown mask and tossed it away, presenting a deceivingly sweet face hidden underneath. Stunned into silence, Saihara couldn’t help but stare. Bright violet eyes akin to the ones in the photographs stared neutrally back at him, almost glowing from lights in the street. His smooth, pale skin also glistened with sweat (likely from being under the mask for most of the evening), glowing like moonlight.

Needless to say, Ouma looked far prettier in person than in mere photographs.

“Saihara-chan,” Ouma whispered softly, leaning up toward Saihara’s shocked face. “What do you think is the real reason I wanted to meet you like this, hmmm?” He reached his hand out to cup the detective’s face gently, feeling warmth seep through his glove.

“You wanted to confess to me. But-” Saihara was cut off by Ouma’s other hand suddenly pressing over his mouth.

“-It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m a wanted criminal, and you’re just a detective out to catch me. You could never reciprocate my feelings for you,” Ouma’s voice cracked. “All the times you were so close to catching me, yet you let me get away. Why?”

Saihara tried to say something, but it came out muffled. Ouma pulled his hands away, which Shuichi grabbed, eliciting a gasp out of the thief.

“Because… I also fell for you too, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma looked at Saihara like he’d grown three heads. “I know it seems silly, but… it’s true. You may not want to admit it, but you’re not as bad as the press makes you out to be.”

The thief didn’t reply, so Saihara kept going. “All the money that you made from those stolen valuables went directly to an organisation that helps keep teenagers off the streets, plus you refuse to deliberately hurt any civilians in your crimes.”

“That doesn’t mean jack-shit! We’re still enemies, Shuichi! How could you fall for someone like me?” there was a distinct, disgusted anger welling up in Ouma’s eyes, threatening to spill over.

Saihara just stared at Ouma, a wistful look on his face. “I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “But I did anyway.”

“Saihara-chan…” the thief cast his gaze down to the ground, fists clenched. “If I’m going to be honest for once, I thought confessing would finally get rid of these feelings that I’ve harboured for you for so long, but now I want you more than anything money could ever buy me.”

“Then why don’t you take what you want? It hasn’t stopped you before, has it?”

Within the span of a few moments, Ouma had somehow pushed Saihara onto the ground, straddling his legs. “Do you really mean that? Once I’ve stolen you-” Ouma traced Saihara’s bottom lip with his thumb, staring straight into his eyes, “-I’m never giving you back.”

“Of course I do. You already stole my heart.” Saihara uttered quietly. Then Ouma’s lips were on his, pressing against Saihara’s mouth desperately.

Saihara’s eyes fell shut, pushing back against Ouma, desperately chasing a warmth that he may never feel again. Ouma wrapped his arms around Saihara’s neck, turning his head to change up the angle of the kiss. It was messy and a little gross, but neither of them cared, simply basking in one another.

The thief finally pulled back, lips shiny and wet with spit, a light flush on his face and neck. Saihara looked about the same.

“Shuichi…” Ouma whispered, burying his face in Saihara’s shoulder. A sudden series of sobs tore their way out of Ouma, wracking through his whole body and dampening Saihara’s shirt.

“Ouma? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Saihara asked, gently rubbing circles into Ouma’s upper back.

“I-I - Please don’t lie to me.”

“Why would I lie to you about my feelings?”

“I thought - You were just trying to trick me,” Ouma pulled away, wiping his face with a sleeve. His eyes were red and puffy, and there were tears still dripping down. “I just - it’s hard to imagine someone who’s supposed to put me in prison, admitting to loving me.”

“I do love you,” Saihara wiped away a stray tear rolling down Ouma’s cheek, gently holding his face. “And it’s the truth.”

Ouma looked like he wanted to cry again. “You… really…” He flung his arms around Saihara again, trying his hardest to not burst into tears. The detective hugged him back, and the two of them spent time just sitting with each other, basking in each other’s warmth and closeness.

“DICE is on the move! Search everywhere you can for that damned thief!”

Both of them froze. Ouma leapt to action, quickly grabbing his discarded clown mask and pulled it on, straightening up his jacket. Saihara picked himself up off the floor and dusted off his trousers, taking care to wipe down his sleeves too. The thief sprinted toward the edge of the building, preparing to jump down and make his escape.

“O-Ou - Kokichi, wait,” Saihara called out. Ouma stiffened up. “Promise me that I will be able to see you again soon, outside of our games. And please, don’t get caught.”

“...Anything for my beloved. But don’t expect more sappy shit from me next time, Mister Detective. I will see you as soon as possible. Au Revoir~!”

Ouma jumped off the side, Saihara ran to lean over the building, making sure Ouma was alright. But true to a phantom thief, he had vanished seemingly into thin air.

Saihara returned home, walking down the freezing streets of Tokyo with a great warmth in his heart that he would see his thief again.

-  
-  
-  
-  
-

The next morning the detective awoke to a familiar, purple haired boy sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, beaming down at him.

“Moooorning, my beloved! Are you heading out soon to investigate your ‘thief’?”

Saihara smiled fondly.

“Maybe later. How about something to eat first, my beloved thief?”

**Author's Note:**

> Pumping out two fanfics? In one day? Damn, that's pretty crazy, right? 
> 
> Anyway thanks for sticking around! Feedback and comments are always appreciated
> 
> (also uhhh follow me on twitter @enbyrevelation)


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